


Forces That Draw Us Together

by mudkipwrites



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Adoption, Being Found, Being Lost, Co-Parenting, Dogs, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Healing, M/M, No Smut, Pets, Pining, Protectiveness, Recovery, Rescue, Romantic Fluff, Roommates, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudkipwrites/pseuds/mudkipwrites
Summary: When a mission results in Alexsandr Kallus as the new owner of an alien puppy, he must rely on his trusted friend Garazeb Orrelios to see him through it. And, maybe, to co-parent?
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 56
Kudos: 71
Collections: Kalluzeb appreciation week 2020.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fulcrum_reader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulcrum_reader/gifts).



> What do you write about for the "Adoption" prompt when you don't enjoy kidfics? PUPPIES, of course! Thanks so much to Fulcrum_Reader for recommending this prompt, and for generally being an awesome friend. Abi, you are a talented, funny and GREAT human being, and the world is a friendlier place for having you in it. Thanks for editing all of my smut... and for fearlessly championing Garazeb's rights. Alright, that's about it: enjoy the fluff!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus disobeys orders (again). Good thing Captain Orrelios has his back.

* * *

KALLUZEB APPRECIATION WEEK 2020 - DAY 3 / SUNDAY MAY 3 / "ADOPTION" 

for fulcrum_reader <3

* * *

CHAPTER ONE 

It should have been just another routine mission for the Rebels; but then the pirates had opened fire upon their smuggled cargo, and that cargo had been very much _alive._ So who could blame Alexsandr Kallus for doing what he thought was right? How could he have known that the surviving youngling, cowering inside of the broken cargo crates, was in fact a Force-sensitive, venomous _Vornskr_?

“ _Careful,_ Kal!” Captain Garazeb Orrelios warns. The protectiveness in his voice sends a jolt of surprise and interest down Kallus’ bent spine. “That’s a _vornskr_ pup! Highly dangerous, that!”

Alexsandr Kallus frowns, squinting at the creature before him. Outside of its space-dark, leathery pelt, it looks much like any other canine: wet nose, four legs, a long, wagging tail. When he extends a careful hand before its face, the beast tumbles forward and begins eagerly lapping at his sweaty fingers. It’s _cute._

“What are you talking about?” Kallus asks Zeb fondly. He scratches the creature behind one of its tall, bat-like ears. It practically _melts_ into a puddle of wriggling pleasure. “This little guy is _adorable_!” 

Normally, the former Imperial is not prone to such generous expressions of affection; but also, _normally_ , he doesn’t throw himself into enemy fire, shielding bodies from blasters by army-crawling his way over to their broken crates.He’d nearly given his superior officer ( _Zeb)_ a minor heart attack by disobeying orders, and he’d received a thorough reprimanding before Garazeb had spied the beast and gone still. 

“Adorable. _Sure.”_ Garazeb grunts, folding his muscular arms. “That ‘ _little guy’_ is goin’ to grow up to be nearly _600 pounds._ It’s got toxic _spines_ that shoot outta the back, an’ venomous _fangs_ to bite ya from the front!” 

Kallus is keenly aware of his hand in the puppy’s mouth. He gently extracts his sticky fingers. 

“An’ of _that’s_ not enough,” Zeb continues darkly, “It’s a _Force-hunter.”_

This, of all things, catches Kallus’ attention. 

“What do you mean by that?” he asks his friend curiously. Whining at the lack of attention, the Vornskr pup whines and butts against his open hand. Really, it looks more like a lizard-wolf hybrid than any kind of lethal death-machine. “ _Force-hunters?_ As in...they... _eat the Force?”_

Garazeb snorts. Kallus feels himself flush with embarrassment at his lack of knowledge. 

“Nah, nothin’ like that,” Zeb says, waving his thoughts away. “These creatures? They’re smart. _Kriffin’_ smart. On their home planet, they use some kinda instinctive sense to hunt down and eat Force-sensitive creatures. So they’re mighty useful once trained as detectors…” he hesitates, cocking his head at the youngling, “an’ so _my_ credits are bettin’ on the Empire wantin’ this cargo for trainin’ and trackin’ down _Jedi.”_

And _now_ Kallus _knows_ that he’s made a mistake. He’s saved this poor, innocent creature from one kind of death, only to expose it to another. Because for all of the mercy and freedoms offered by the Rebel Alliance, Alexsandr Kallus does _not_ expect that the others on base will take kindly to such a significant threat. If Imperial buyers come _looking_ for their valuable, lost cargo, only to discover an inhabited moon near Yavin…

The creature whines, and he turns his attention back to it again. It gazes up at him, all soulful innocence and wagging tail. His heart aches as the pup snuggles against his palm, searching for the tang of salt or other nourishment. 

“Zeb,” Kallus says, his own voice breaking. “I...I know that you think this is probably stupid, but, you _can’t_ just kill this innocent youngling.” He looks up at his Lasat friend, eyes pleading for the Captain to reason. “It’s...it’s not his fault. He was born into this mess.” 

If he didn’t know any better, there is a softness in Garazeb Orrelios’ eyes. He’s begun to read his friend better after the time that they’ve spent together on the Rebel base, and he suspects that the man is _far_ softer than he looks upon his exterior. 

At least, he is _hoping._

“Please, Zeb!” Kallus interrupts his friend, cutting him off when he opens his mouth. “Please, _don’t_ kill him. Just let him live.” 

The tall, purple man seems to be considering multiple things. His eyes flicker over Kallus--where he is now clutching the pup to his chest, cradling it in his arms like a baby--to the wiggling puppy itself. His eyes pull over its hooked, ebony claws and oversized feet. 

“Kallus…” 

_“Please!”_

“Yes! Fine, yeah, okay!” Garazeb interrupts. “I hear ya, I hear ya. The Vornskr doesn’t die.” He gives his blaster-rifle a shake, and it resumes the resting position. 

Kallus feels his whole body sagging with relief as the Lasat holsters his weapon, then grins when the other man kneels down to meet him. 

“Alright, lemme see that little bastard,” he says, holding out his hands. 

When Kallus opens his arms, the smooth-skinned creature stumbles awkwardly out of his hands, and trots over to Zeb on its over-large paws. The Lasat opens his arms, making a chirping sound that puckers his lovely, purple-grey lips. With a stomach-flipping _lurch_ of pleasant surprise, Kallus watches Zeb’s face transform with paternal fondness as he welcomes the creature, until there is no trace of the warrior there at all, and nothing upon his features except child-like softness. 

“Aww, lookatcha!” Zeb praises, lifting the pup to tickle its chubby belly. “Why, yer just a wee ysalamiri!” 

Kallus finds himself watching the playful Lasat and the happy puppy with rapturous attention. For some reason, the sweetness of the moment makes him feel rather shy, but he does not want to look away for a moment. The youngling seems to draw something rare out of Zeb...and it is truly _gorgeous_ to look at. Not that he doesn’t already think that his friend is gorgeous. Er. Well--

“So what do you think?” Kallus asks breathlessly. “Can we keep it?” 

His friend looks up at him, cocking an eyebrow. Only after the words have sat in the air between them for a moment does he realize his mistake, and Alexsandr Kallus feels his whole face flooding dark with a hot _blush._

“Um, ah! I mean! Can _I_ keep it? Right! Not like you could say _no,_ but--” 

Garazeb Orrelios chuckles. He places the pup down on the floor, and gives it a push back towards him. 

“Sure we can,” Zeb says, glancing up at him. His emerald eyes seem to glitter with amusement, and it sort of... _does things_ to Alexsandr Kallus’ insides. “M’glad ya decided to ask me, bein’ that we _are_ roommates an’ all.” 

With a rush of relief, Kallus grabs onto this outlet. 

“Yes! Ah, _right._ That’s _absolutely_ what I meant. So don’t you worry!--” he adds, seeing the smirk spreading over Zeb’s handsome face, “--I won’t dump all the responsibilities on you! I’ll do all the work. I know that puppies take a _lot_ of looking after, so I expect that I’ll have to set up a schedule. First, I need to figure out what it eats; second, I’ll need a proper sleep schedule. Do you think that anyone will mind if we use some of the greenspace on base for training?” 

Kallus knows that he’s rambling, but he cannot stop. 

“I don’t think that Hera or Kanan would mind if we borrowed some things from the _Ghost._ I know that we have some carnivorous-diet persons on base, I can ask them about--” 

“ _Alexsandr.”_

Zeb has moved closer to him, and is now only a few paces apart. Kallus feels himself give a little _shiver_ as he looks up at his friend, once again taken by surprise by the sheer _size_ of him up close. The Lasat’s green eyes are soft, and he is looking down at him with a look of fondness that rivals what he had just given the puppy. 

“ _Breathe._ It’s _alright_ . We’re gonna do this _together.”_

He reaches out a hand--but rather than stroking the puppy, he touches the side of Kallus’ head. Freezing in place, Alexsandr hardly dares to breathe as the other man shifts a fallen lock of golden hair out of his face, tucking it gently behind his ear. His hand remains there, fingertips shifting softly over the side of his neck. 

“Yer not gonna have to do this alone.” 

Kallus closes his eyes, savoring the warmth of the touch and trying not to tremble. 

“You an’ me, we’re gonna make sure that this little guy lives. We’ll figure it out. No need to panic.” 

Despite his nervousness, a smile tugs across Kallus’ lips. Heart blooming inside of his chest at the intimate words, he feels himself grinning broadly like some kind of love-struck idiot. Eyes still closed, he wonders if Garazeb is smiling, too.

Kallus’ moment of rapture does not last long. Sharp, pointed teeth sink _hard_ into his skin.

 _“Ouch!”_ he gasps, eyes flying wide open. It’s hard to say what startles him more: Garazeb’s eyes glittering only inches away, or the sight of a Vornskr puppy locked on to his hand. Beads of blood are beginning to well up around where it’s mouth is clamped, and a wild, stinging pain is spreading out from the bite. 

“Careful!” Zeb cries, reaching down to assist him. “Get _off,_ ya little Loth-rat!” 

“Z-zeb,” Kallus says, feeling teary-eyed and a bit dreamy. “I t-think..I think that I may have been... _poisoned…_ ” 

The blissful smile is still on his face when the cold floor rushes up to meet him. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo-boy! I sure hope Kallus knows what he's getting himself into!! (Although I suspects that he doesn't). First time puppy-owners, where you at? Next up: their fateful arrival on Yavin 4's base, and an encounter with a certain Twi'lek general.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera isn't pleased with their current life choices. Kallus and Zeb name their new kid.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

When Alexsandr Kallus exits the ship with a heavily-bandaged hand, a black eye, and a wiggling Vornskr pup in his arms, he is _not_ startled to see Hera Syndulla stamp her boot in frustration.

 _“Garazeb Orrelios_!” she yells, “ _What_ did you let your boyfriend get into _this_ time?” 

Alexsandr Kallus finds himself blushing. Rather than arguing the semantics of an unrequited crush with a Rebellion general, he hustles past her and busies himself with scratching the pup’s ears. Zeb, however, is not nearly as stealthy: he releases an audible curse, and pivots back toward the ship to make an attempted getaway.

“I dunno what yer talkin’ about, Hera,” Zeb calls breezily over his shoulder. “Anyway, just gotta freshen’ up after that mission, so-- _oi! Leggo!”_

The short, green Twi’lek woman is holding her fellow Spectre down by the ear. Zeb’s easy smile has flickered away, and he looks ready to beg her for mercy. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” she asks, more fierce than any Vornskr. “Captain Orrelios, did you bring back some kind of _love child_ with Alexsandr Kallus again after I explicitly told you not to? And after I told you that the cargo the pirates carried was dangerous, and that the ship was meant to be thoroughly scuttled?” 

Zeb huffs a defensive breath. “It was _Ezra_ last time!” he says, “Not some random kid. We were all missin’ him!” 

Hera growls and twists the hand holding the ear. 

“Not my point, Orrelios,” she snaps. “My point is that you keep putting this station in _danger_! Not just with your reckless antics, but by bringing back some wild, toxic space-creature!” 

Zeb’s eyebrows lift, and his gaze brightens. 

“Oh!” he says happily. “So Kallus already told ya about the venom, did he?” 

The former ISB-agent winces at the noise that Hera makes. He increases his pace back towards their shared living quarters. 

“It’s _WHAT?!”_

“I got it covered! I got it covered!” 

Alexsandr Kallus decides that he'd better let Zeb take care of making the rest of the arrangements with General Syndulla. 

When he arrives at their room he keys in the entry, then dumps his worn travel-bag down on the unmade bed. The barracks that he shares with his friend Garrazeb Orrelios are small, but comfortable: two bunks, one mounted over the other; a set of windows, one on either side of the walls, facing East and West directions; a random assortment of their favorite belongings; clothing and sparring weapons scattered here and there. More than once, Kallus wishes that his warm, glowing meteorite from Zeb had been with him when he’d been rescued from the Chimera (not to mention his bo-rifle). Still, this little place has gradually become home, and he’s glad to share it now with the Lasat. He likes spending time with the other man, and he doesn’t even think that he really smells. 

Eager to explore the new space, the puppy flops from his arms. It lands in an uncoordinated heap, and promptly begins to find something for its young, aching jaws to chew. 

“Woah there! Easy!” Kallus says, dropping down to his knees. He boxes in the youngling with his arms and legs, extracting his favorite, polished sparring rod out of its mouth. “Yeah, I suppose that you are a smart one. That’s my favorite toy, too.” 

The little Vornskr wags its long, whiplike tail and makes one of those gurgling sounds of his not-bark. 

“Let’s find you something else,” he tells the pup, “keep those teeth busy with something you should have instead.” 

The creature cocks its head at him, as though listening. It does seem to be calculating the tone of his voice: ears lifted and bent forward, not unlike Garazeb while he is listening. The thought of his friend in the face of this sweet little animal makes him chuckle, and Kallus wonders for the briefest moment what Zeb must have looked like as a baby himself. 

“Alright. How about...this?” he asks the youngling, holding up a compact cylinder. “It’s a muscle-roller. Pretty dense, so it might actually take you a while to chew through it.” 

He sets the object down on the floor in front of the creature, flicking it forward with his fingertips. It rolls towards the Vornskyr, and the puppy pounces. It jumps forward with a happy chirp, claws extending as its ebony paws pound into the material. 

“On second thought…” Kallus says, eyeing the way that the pup is already slicing thick gouges into the object with its teeth, “...We might have to get creative in making some new, sturdy objects to keep you occupied.”

The pup rips the tough cylinder in half. Kallus’ eyes widen. 

“Maybe something made out of duracrete.” 

There is a gentle knock on the door, and Garazeb enters. 

“Zeb!” Kallus says happily, sitting up and gesturing at the Vornskr puppy. “I got him up here! Without Hera stopping me!” 

The Lasat scowls at him. He sighs, and sits down heavily on the lower bunk of Kallus’ bed. 

“Yeah. She didn’ stop you,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But, yer right. Way to stick to the plan, Kal.” 

Alexsandr Kallus beams, knowing that his friend is really quite pleased underneath all of his grumpy persona. Zeb had wanted this: just like he hand wanted it. The thought of the two of them working together, on their own special project, makes a warm sensation of pleasure glow within his belly. (It’s rather like a certain meteorite that he’d once been given). 

“So did she buy it?” he asks, clasping his hands. “Did she believe our story?” 

Zeb snorts, a look of humor tugging at his plush lips. 

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically, “It went over great. I told her exactly what we cooked up in the med-bay on our way back: that ya learned all about handlin’ dangerous, Force-sensitive creatures during your ‘elite trainin’ portion of the ISB. An that ya felt confident that ya could take this little guy and turn him into an Empire raizer, and that we’d glad to have him against psycho Sith lords.” 

Kallus smirks. The idea of it sounds far-fetched even to him here, without the anti-toxin and pain-meds.

“Well,” he says, pulling a data-pad from the Vornskrs’ slavering mouth, “If she let you come and join me, then we dodged a blaster there. I know she’s not happy, but I’d say that we’re in the clear.” 

Zeb raises a heavy eyebrow at him. The look is playful and teasing, and it makes Kallus’ stomach want to do back-flips. 

“We better be,” he says, to Kallus. “Otherwise, I gotta find me a new roommate. Losin’ yer fellow housemate to public execution doesn’t look great fer the ol’ track record.” 

Kallus snorts a quiet laugh, looking away. Sometimes, he suspects that Garazeb Orrelios is flirting with him; sometimes, he thinks that he’s out of his mind for considering it. Either way, their easy banter has become one of his favorite things. 

“So. What do you think we should name the kid?” he asks Zeb, attempting to keep the light humor going. 

To his surprise, the Lasat actually blushes. (It’s not the same kind of coloration that humans have, but it’s just as distinctive: the soft fur upon Garazeb’s neck and chest rises up and prickles, until his whole torso and arms are static and fluffy.) 

He _adores_ it. 

“Er, yeah,” Zeb grunts. “I’ve been thinkin’ on that. How about we give him a nice Lasat name?” he reaches out to the puppy, patting the floor. “Gularzob! C’mere, Zob!” 

Kallus makes a gagging sound. Zeb narrows his eyes, offended. “ _Gularzob_ sounds like somebody hocked up a _hairball_ ,” he sniffs. 

The other man throws up his arms. 

“He’s a national hero!” the Lasat protests, voice incredulous. “Only one of our most legendary warriors ever?!”

Kallus grins, enjoying the good-natured ribbing between them. 

“Still don’t like the name,” he replies. “What about giving him a name that’s more noble? He’s an elegant beast. We could call him something like classy, like Atticus. Or Alistair?” 

This time, it’s Zeb who makes a disgusted, choking sound. 

“Please. Ya only like those arrogant, pretty-boy names because they sound like _Alexsandr_.” 

“Hey!” 

“Am I wrong, _Sasha_?” 

Kallus glares, folding his arms. He feels as though that one was a bit below the belt. The soft, intimate name makes his heart twitch.

“You don’t get to call me that,” he mumbles. 

Garazeb laughs. His ears perk up, and the pure joy of it makes Kallus’ frowning mouth tug into a begrudging smile. 

A sharp, gagging sound catches their attention, and both of the men turn to see that the Vornskyr puppy has consumed nearly half of one of Kallus’ boots, and is now hacking upon the shredded leather. 

“HEY!” Kallus snarls, lurching forward to retrieve his footwear. “ _Bad_ boy! _No_!” 

Zeb laughs, slapping his knee. 

“Real elegant. _Right_ ,” he teases, wiping a tear leaking from one elegant eye. Kallus shoots him a look that could rival the venom that had been injected into his hand earlier. “Fine, fine. Sorry. I’m just messin’ with ya.” 

Kallus holds up the shredded remains of his boot, scowling. “I know.” 

Zeb snaps his fingers, and the pup turns its dark, pointed muzzle towards him and sniffs. The Lasat pats at the floor with his clawed fingertips, and the Vornskr toddles over to join him. 

“Well, how about we name him after one of his characteristics?” Kallus suggests. He tosses the now useless boot into the wall-recycler. “We could name him Trouble. Or Destruction.” he shoots a meaningful look at the creature. 

Zeb chuckles. He considers the creature, then makes a decisive nod of his head. 

“A trait, eh? How about _Rowdy_?”

Kallus wrinkles his nose. It’s such an ordinary name. Half of all of his childhood friends (er, acquaintances) and their brothers had a ‘Rowdy.’ However, the hopeful look that his friend is giving him is almost too sweet to bear…his big, green eyes, growing in the growing darkness…

“Ugh. Fine!” Kallus says, waiving his own annoyance away. “Rowdy it is. It suits him just fine, then.” 

Garazeb beams, and the swooping feeling that Alexsandr Kallus gets in his stomach makes every minute of that mundane name worth it. 

_Karabast_ , he thinks to himself. _I’m so very far gone for this man._

Doing his best not to sound too pleased, he asks his friend: “Well. I suppose we better set him— _Rowdy_ —up a sort of kennel? Now that he has a permanent home with us?”

 _Oh yeah,_ he thinks With resignation, watching the way that the Lasat’s eyes dance at his words. _I’d do anything for this man. I’m a lost cause._

“Good idea, Kal.” Zeb agrees. “It’s our job to look after our kid, after all.”

Kallus does his best to laugh off what appears to be a casual joke, all the while feeling his heart leap and flutter. 

Rowdy, however, does not seem interested in what has been occurring between the two men in the slightest. Instead, the impish creature has found yet _another_ object to destroy, and is busily working away at its dismemberment. As Alexsandr Kallus watches the Vornskr pup work its teeth into his various possessions, a slow, creeping feeling of worry begins to dawn within him. Rowdy does not seem to have relaxed in the slightest--not since he'd first held the beast, and not since they had arrived at their room. Uncertain about the nature of babies, and wondering _(not for the first time, and hoping this will not be a theme)_ if he has made the correct decision, he turns to Garazeb Orrelios. 

"Zeb...I would never claim to be a professional in my knowledge of younglings. But...do you think..." he winces as the pup _crunches_ through a durasteel bottle, "...Do you suppose that vornskrs _sleep through the night_? I have heard... _stories..._ about infants that can be, well, in their earliest years...rather _demanding_." 

The Lasat shrugs at him. He reaches out to pluck the caf thermos from Rowdy's mouth. 

"Don't know nothin' about it," he replies easily. "But he's an awful _cute_ little bugger....how bad could he really _be?"_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, Rowdy! I debated lots of different names, but ultimately, I went with the first one that came to mind. What's your dog's name? Why did you name it that? Hope you're enjoying this! Up next time: Kanan Jarrus and Kallus have a cup of caf.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus is tired. Kanan shares a bit of wisdom.

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

_This is hell,_ Alexsandr Kallus thinks dazedly to himself. _I’ve never lived through anything like this. I’ve never felt_ any _kind of torture this effective. I need to rest. I MUST_ _rest._

It’s been 72 hours since the last time he’s properly slept. Or, perhaps even more. Days and seem to blend together now, since they’ve acquired Rowdy. It’s been one long haze of exhaustion since the baby Vornskr had entered their lives. Suddenly, Kallus had gone from being one of the most focused and promising candidates for captain on base to one of the most half-assed, sleep-drunk cadets on Yavin 4. Staying up all night with the pup has left him with a bone-tired weariness that makes every movement of his tired joints _ache_. Of course, he _could_ accept Garazeb’s invitation to switch up their shifts, so that he alone is not the one responsible for pottying and playing with the creature at all hours....but it is a matter of _pride._

Alexandr Kallus had gotten them _into_ this mess; and he intends to be the one to get them both _out_ of it. 

“Is that so, Kallus?” 

“Mmm, yep,” he replies muzzily, unsure of what he is agreeing with. “You got it, Kanan.” He can barely keep his eyes open during his regular information debriefings, let alone through the soothing rhythm of the Jedi’s low voice. Kallus’ head is pillowed within his hand, and he is _dangerously_ close to allowing his chin to slip and drop into his steaming cup of caf. “Whatever you say.” 

The Jedi chuckles. 

“Well, that’s good then!” he says warmly to Kallus. “I’m really glad that you two finally figured things out, and made it _official_.” 

Kallus cracks an eye open to look at the blind, grinning man. _Kriff. What else did I get myself into?_ He hadn’t absorbed the other man’s words in the slightest. 

“Sorry,” he yawns, “can you repeat that?” 

“You and Zeb!" Kanan says cheerfully, like a very proud dad. "Like I said, it's _great!_ Hera will be so happy to hear it. We’ve been rooting for you guys ever since Bahryn, you know. _”_

Alexsandr Kallus snorts in a burning noseful of caf.

“Wait, we _what_ now?!” he sputters. “S-sorry Kanan, now I _know_ that I misheard you!” His heart thunders within his chest. “Garazeb Orrelios? And _me? Official?!”_ The thought makes him blush. Yes, of _course_ there are rumours flying about on his pining after Garazeb Orrelios--but he _hadn’t_ realized that his affection for the handsome Lasat had become such widespread, _pitifully_ transparent knowledge that even a _blind_ man could see it. 

“ _Karabast_ ,” he swears quietly as he mops up the spill on his soft, v-neck shirt and the table.

Kanan’s knowing grin makes him blush even _darker_. 

“Look, Kanan,” he pleads. He knows that the Jedi cannot see his smitten embarrassment, and he clings onto that thread with gratefulness. “Please don’t tease me about this. As I am far too aware, there is _nothing_ between myself and Captain Orrelios. He’s a wonderful friend, and a very good roommate, but I can’t say that there is, or has been, anything more to our dynamic.” 

He scrunches the caf-soaked napkin within his hand, staring down at the table mournfully. 

“Whatever my feelings might be on the subject.” 

There is a soft, gentle laugh. Kallus looks up in surprise, and he sees humor crinkling the milk-white corner of Kanan Jarrus’ eyes. It is not mocking; it’s very _tender_. Maybe, a little sad.

“I see so much of myself in you, Alexsandr Kallus,” the Jedi says. “Holding yourself back from what you want...denying yourself what you don’t think you deserve.” 

Kallus stares, a whole new kind of embarrassment flooding him. _Me? Be anything like a noble Jedi? I’m nothing like Kanan Jarrus! I’m not nearly as good._

Kanan sighs, as if he could read Kallus’ present thoughts. 

“Let me put it this way. Do you think that you could allow somebody else to meet you halfway?” 

Kallus raises his eyebrows. 

“Is it possible that you’re doing _all_ of the work, and not allowing somebody else to be a part of making that choice?” 

Through the fog of his exhaustion, Kallus does not know if the Jedi is referring to his romantic feelings for Garazeb anymore, or if he is referring to their current situation with the Vornskr puppy. Either way, the cryptic message may have some value. 

“Possibly,” he sighs, shoulders sinking with tiredness. “I have been known to overthink things.” 

Kanan Jarrus hums in satisfaction. He reaches out, tapping Kallus lightly on the top of his knuckles. The former Imperial stares down at the point of easy, familiar contact, and wonders when he will get used to the intimate gestures that the Spectres offer so freely between them. It’s been taking some practice.

“Think it over again,” Kanan suggests, voice soft and kind. “It’s possible that Garazeb Orrelios has more to offer than you are allowing him to give you right now.” 

Feeling perplexed, Kallus blinks rapidly as the other man pushes himself up from the table. He stares up at the other man, wondering if wisdom comes with the territory of being a Jedi. _I wish I could be like him,_ Kallus thinks. _I wish I was half the man that he is._

“Well, I’ll see you soon, Alexsandr Kallus,” Kanan says with a smile. “Gotta go hook up with my super-hot wife for some exquisite sex. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” 

Kallus feels his mouth drop open with a squeak. Kanan winks at him with a knowing smile, walking away with a bit of a swagger to his hips. 

“I take it all back…” Kallus murmurs to his cup of caf. 

He takes a _long_ sip. 

Squinting, Alexsandr Kallus steps into the bright sunlight of Yavin 4. Usually he relishes in the warm, humid air of the tropical base, but not today. Today, it makes him feel as though his dry, tired eyes will _burst_ from his aching head. Nausea and discomfort swirls in his belly, and he keeps the hand firmly locked in place over his eyes as he makes for the bunks and the waiting vornskr. Kanan’s words keep echoing inside of his head--along with the ghost of Garazeb Orrelios’ smile, and the image of him hovering just a lips’ distance away. 

_“Stop!”_ he snarls to himself in protest. “It’s useless to think of it. Garazeb doesn’t want you! Your exhaustion is making you _delusional_.” 

A very tired Kallus grumbles like this all the way back to their residence, pausing at the doorway to drop his knapsack.“You really _do_ need some sleep, Alexsandr,” he tells himself wearily. “Talking to yourself again? It’s like being back on the _Chimaera_. Suppressing a shudder at the lonely memory, he unlocks the door. 

A black, bouncing vornskr barrels out to meet him.

“Hullo, Rowdy,” he says tiredly to the pup. In spite of all his weariness, he _adores_ the creature: it’s space-dark eyes, liquid and loving; it’s long, scaly snout, wet and snuffling; it’s long, wagging tail, venom-barbs sharp and withdrawn. “Hey, little boy. It’s good to see you, too.” 

Kallus scoots inside the room to find that his many belongings have been scattered about like a whirlwind. It seems as though the rapidly-growing Vornskr youngling has _somehow_ figured out how to escape Garazeb’s locking-mechanic, and that he has proceeded to wreak havoc during his time of unanticipated freedom. 

“Aww, no, _Rowdyyy!”_ Kallus groans, crouching to the floor to collect a shredded stack of flimsy, “you’re so _naughty._ You’re such a _puppy!”_

The smooth-skinned canine wriggles and prances towards him, all shiny-eyes and cheerful innocence. He bats at the collection of debris with his paw as Kallus collects them and deposits them in the bin, and he makes a happy, chirruping noise as he gathers him, tumbling nose-over-toes, into his lap. 

“Zeb was supposed to let you out at noontime,” he informs the youngling. “Judging by the state of things, he either _did_ and forgot to latch the kennel firmly, _or,_ you’ve been a menace since I departed this morning for breakfast.” 

The Vornskr cocks his head. He studies Kallus with those soulful, dark eyes, and his hairless eyebrows move in concentration to understand him. 

“You’re a smart boy,” he chuckles. “Just not a _good_ boy. I’ll bet when you’re all grown up, you’ll not only _behave,_ but you’ll be able to understand me.” 

The pup twists his head to the other side, gaze still fixed curiously on the human. He smiles, scratching him affectionately behind the ears. 

“Okay, _fine,_ you’re a good boy _too,”_ he concedes with a sigh. “I just _hate_ that you are up every hour of the day or night. If you would just sleep like a regular person, all of this would be better. Alright? Okay?” 

Rowdy wags his long tail enthusiastically against Kallus leg. He had chosen to wear a pair of loose-fitting cargo shorts that humid morning, and the feeling of the Vornskr’s tail slaps his skin like a leathery whip. It stings just a bit. 

“Hope you don’t start wanting to eat people as you get older,” he tells the pup casually. “I hear that your lot are known for being carnivorous. Even _Hera_ says that you’re a threat, you know.” 

The pup looks utterly unconcerned. He places both paws on the round of Alexsandr’s belly, and releases a short, demanding _bark._

“Yeah. You’re a killer, you are,” Kallus yawns, shaking his head. “Alright, yeah, you’re right. Let’s go outside. I think we better have you relieve yourself anyway. Then we’re _definitely_ going to take a nap.” 

He climbs to his feet, reaching for the strip of braided leather that Garazeb had fashioned for a kind of leash. He bends and connects that to the harness ( _which Zeb_ also _crafted)_ that is criss-crossed over his chest.

When he’s all geared up like this, Rowdy looks like he could be a proper guard-dog. 

“We’ll make a rebel out of you yet,” he tells the pup with sleepy affection.

As they walk through the door and make for the grassy courtyard, he adds in a low whisper, “I was trouble too, you know. But they still gave me a chance. I'm glad that they did. And I'm glad they’re choosing to give you one, too.”

Yawning widely, he walks, feeds, and potties the exuberant youngster. Only _then_ does Alexsandr Kallus listen to his weary body, folding into the much-needed, aching desire for _sleep_ that is beckoning him back to his bed. With a Vornskr tucked under one arm, and a fluffy pillow beneath the other, he collapses in the doorway of their residence.

He is snoring before his head hits the pillow.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Space Dad!! Boy, I don't think I've ever loved a Jedi so much. (Ahsoka is No Jedi, so I do not feel disloyal saying this in the slightest). What do you think about his insight for bb Kallus? Do you think that muttonchops is ever gonna get it? Guess we'll find out...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus gets some cuddles.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

Alexsandr Kallus awakens to something warm and soft brushing his face. 

“Mmm, Rowdy,” he murmurs, pushing the pleasant sensation away. “Five more minutes. Then I’ll let you out.” 

He shifts in his sleep, feeling stiff beneath his curled-up limbs. The air of the room has become cool--he must have left a window open before falling asleep--and it makes the fine hairs on his arms stand on end. Kallus yawns, stretching slightly. 

A gentle, baritone chuckle freezes him in place. 

_“Garazeb?”_

He cracks open his gritty eyelids. The room has become dim, cool and quiet, and moonlight pours in through the opened windows. He must have slept for a _long_ time, because the stars have appeared in the inky darkness above. During the time he was sleeping, Rowdy has done some serious damage to a varied collection of his items (clothing, flimsy and garbage among them). Although the world has grown quiet and dim, Kallus notices that the painful spike of his headache has finally gone. He _also_ notices--rather _acutely_ \--that his roommate, crush and dearest friend is leaning against the wall next to him, stroking away the hair that has fallen into his eyes. _So_ gently. Like some kind of _romantic_ gesture. 

Shivering in a way that has nothing to do with the cold, Kallus forces himself to sit up. 

“We’ve gotta stop meetin’ like this,” Zeb teases quietly. He pauses in brushing his velvety knuckles over Kallus’ face long enough to assist him in sitting against he wall. “I can’t keep pullin’ yer pretty face off the floor. It deserves better!” 

Kallus blushes furiously. He forces a normalized chuckle, and then looks quickly and purposefully about the room. His perspective is lower than he’d expected; it seems n his tiredness that he’d not only failed to put Rowdy back in his kennel, but that he’d also missed falling into his own bed. According to Kallus’ viewpoint, he must have fallen asleep directly on spot where he’d been playing with the Vornskr.

Struggling to keep his embarrassment at bay, Kallus yawns and asks, “Whattime izzit?” 

Zeb chuckles. His hand remains where it rests upon Kallus’ back, and it’s warm, heavy and _comforting._ Kallus feels himself slowly leaning into the touch, and wondering if he might fall back asleep with the support of it. 

“Nearly two in the morning,” the Lasat replies. “You musta been sleepin’ like a _rock_ , Kal, because when I came in ‘round seven to find out why ya hadn’t joined me for dinner, I found the pair of ya conked out like _this.”_

He gestures to the Vornskyr slumbering upon his bed, and to where Kallus had sprawled out upon the floor. 

“Rowdy finally woke up about nine, an’ we went out for a bit to let off some steam. But when I came back here, you were still sleepin! So I thought that I’d try a little experiment. I put the kid back on yer sheets--an’ wouldn’t ya know it?!--he fell back asleep again, just like _that!_ ” Garazeb smiles, very pleased with himself. “It’s like he was just _made_ to sleep in yer bed.” 

Three, simultaneous thoughts occur in Alexsandr Kallus’ sleep-deprived mind all at once. First of all: the slightly pleased, slightly disturbed “ _So you’ve just been sitting here with me for_ hours _, watching me_ sleep _?! That’s kind of creepy, Zeb. And…kind of...sweet.”_ Second: the bone-deep, crushing wave of gratitude for his roommate and friend. “ _Oh, thank the STARS, Garazeb! We’ve finally figured it out! No more staying awake all day and night without sleep!”_ And then, third and finally, most pressing of all: _“Made...to sleep...in my bed…?”_

In the delirious haze of his mind, his thoughts go directly to the sweet image of crawling alongside the Lasat into his bed. Of curling up next to Zeb within his warm sheets, held within his strong arms, as though _Alexsandr Kallus_ was made to stay _there_.

“Sorry that I didn’ wake ya,” Zeb adds apologetically. His emerald eyes are glowing in the dark, and he seems to be watching Kallus with concern. “I just wanted fer ya to get some rest. You’ve been workin’ _really_ hard at watchin’ the kid, and I thought that it’d be best fer ya to get some shut-eye. I know I could’ve asked ya first, but I thought that it might be okay.” 

_He noticed,_ Kallus thinks, tired head swirling. _Garazeb really_ was _thinking about me and my well-being today. He_ wanted _me to take a break, and he_ wanted _to help me, even though I thought that I had to do it alone!_

“Are ya mad at me?” Zeb rubs a soft circle into Kallus’ back with the thumb of his hand. 

The realization that his best friend cares more about him than he’d ever expected--and that there might _even_ be the potential for Zeb to care about him even _more,_ just as the Jedi had implied earlier--it nearly knocks the wind out of Alexsandr Kallus. He sways on the spot. 

Zeb seems to read it as exhaustion.

“I’m not upset with you at all,” Kallus replies quietly. “In fact, I’m very, _very_ happy _._ Thank you, Zeb, for doing all of this for me. It was clever, how you figured out what Rowdy needed. And, I suppose, figuring out what I needed, too.” 

Kallus finally allows himself to look back at the other man. The tenderness that he sees blooming within the Lasat’s eyes almost makes him fall over again. 

“I t-truly appreciate it,” Kallus continues. “I ap-ppreciate you--” his throat constricts. _Karabast! Shut your mouth! You just got this new family, you don’t want to lose it!_ “--your help,” he concludes. “You’re very helpful, Zeb. And a very good friend. I’m so glad that I don’t have to do all of this Vornskr-wrangling without you.” 

The other man is watching him steadily, as though waiting for him to say more. But when Kallus remains silent, biting his lip and adding nothing, he nods his head in affirmation. 

“Yer welcome, Kal. Now let’s get ya to bed.” 

With regret, Kallus nods and shifts away from Zeb’s supporting hand. The warm imprint of it leaves a clinging ghost of warmth upon his v-neck, and Kallus hopes that the heat (or the smell of him) will last through the night. He decides that he will leave this shirt on. 

“Here’s to hoping that Vornskrs are heavy sleepers,” he jokes, standing before his wrinkled bed. “I think that I’m going to just let him have that side of the bunk. I can sleep with my head down here.” He gestures towards the end of the bed. “Well. Goodnight, Garazeb.” 

The Lasat makes a snorting noise of disagreement. Uncertain, Kallus raises his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, _right._ Like yer gonna get any kind of good sleep _that_ way.” The Lasat turns towards his bed making a waving motion at Kallus. “I got a better idea. Why don’t ya join me in mine?” 

Alarm and excitement jolts up Kallus’ spine. 

_Did he really just say--did he really just ask what I think he asked?!_

“That way, we’ll _all_ get some good sleep,” Zeb continues, “and we’ll be ready to handle whatever comes in the mornin.’”

Kallus feels his eyes growing wide in his head. His heart stammers within his chest, and he struggles to breath in the cool, late-night air. 

“G-Garazeb?” he hears himself asking nervously. “Did you say...are you _sure?_...”

The Lasat chuffs with quiet, amused laughter. 

“Course m’sure,” he says easily. “Nothin’ wrong with a coupla best bros sharin’ a blanket, right?” 

Kallus’ head spins. _Zeb. Bed. Sleep. Bed. With. Bed. Zeb. Bed._

“S-sure, right. I mean, _yes_. Thank you, Zeb. I wouldn’t m-mind.” 

Zeb grunts in amusement. Alexsandr Kallus turns his back purposefully to the Lasat, making for his wardrobe as he strips himself of his vest and trousers. 

_And what does Zeb sleep in?_ Kallus finds himself wondering, hands trembling as he rubs the thin fabric of his day-shirt between his fingers. _Does he wear pajamas like mine? Or does he, perhaps, sleep in the nude?!_ The sudden thought occurs to him, horribly good, and he finds his heart stammering within his chest. _No. It doesn't’ matter. Don’t think of that._ Stepping out of his trousers and into a pair of boxer-briefs, he sucks in a steadying breath. _Like Zeb said: it’s just you two as friends. Sharing a blanket._ He gulps, pushing his fallen hair out of his eyes. _Just sharing a bed._

Any resolve that he’d had to stay calm quickly vanishes. 

Garazeb Orrelios has climbed into the top, narrow bunk, stretched long and lovely in relaxation. His handsome head is pillowed above two folded palms, and he rests on his belly as his powerful, striped shoulders face towards the sky.

Kallus has not even entered the bed, and he already feels completely indecent. 

Nervously, and moving quietly so as not to wake the sleeping pup, Kallus makes his way across the debris littered across the room and slowly toes his way up the ladder. The cold, anchoring feeling of the durasteel reminds him that all of this moment is real, and that he is not not having some sort of walking fever-dream. 

“Hey,” Zeb invites, peeking at Kallus from the pillow of his hands. 

Kallus swallows thickly, hoisting himself up the final rung to kneel quietly upon the mattress. “H-hey,” he replies, sounding nearly as anxious as he is. _Karabast!_

Zeb’s playful expression softens. With a gentleness that makes gooseflesh erupt down his arms and neck, the other man reaches out a hand and pats the space on the bed next to him. 

“C’mere,” he invites Kallus softly. 

Mutely, the former Imperial nods and crawls on his hands and knees across the mattress. There isn’t much room for him to go: Yavin 4 is large for a moon, but not enough that their quarters allow for more than the thinnest of bunks. Soon, he finds himself crouched next to his friend where he is lying prone, willing himself not to breathing too loud or too fast. The effort only makes the tightness of his chest increase. 

“S’okay, Kal. Go ahead n’ lay down.” 

With trembling hands, Kallus sinks into the mattress alongside his friend. When his chin hits the large, softened pillow placed there for him, and he buries his nose into the plush comfort of it.. _Zeb._ It smells like _Zeb:_ deep, and earthy and musky. He inhales and shivers against the sheets. 

“Are ya cold?”

Kallus has only a moment of horror to realize that his trembling is visible before a large, muscular arm wraps around him. He is not _entirely_ sure that the sound that he makes is one that would be proper between best friends, but he cannot _help_ the little, _grateful_ gasp as he is drawn into the warm, velvet-furred curve of Zeb’s body. His eyelids flutter closed as Zeb’s strong forearm crosses over the thin material of the tank-top upon his chest, and as he feels the _defined_ shape of his pectorals and abdominal muscles blazing against his back. 

“T-thanks again,” Kallus whispers. He bites down on his lip to silence the whine that threatens to sneak out. _Good. Better than good. BEST._ “This is very considerate of you, Zeb. I truly appreciate it.” 

The Lasat chuckles from behind him. Alexsandr can feel the vibrations of his deep, sonorous voice ripple through their close proximity. It tickles against the skin of his back, lighting up every nerve with warm sensation. 

“Yer very welcome, Kal,” Zeb replies softly. The words are warm and gentle against his ear, and Kallus gulps, feeling his adam’s apple drag against the smoothness of the pillow. “I got yer back.” 

Kallus hears himself give his own tight-chested chuckle. 

“Quite literally,” he agrees with his friend. 

Zeb hums in reply. Then, he reaches out with his foot to grasp at the blankets with his dexterous toes. Kallus tenses as he feels the Lasat’s hips shifting against him in the movement, eyes rolling back in his head as the meat of his thighs brush up against the curve of his ass. 

“No doubt,” Zeb says. “Here, better cover up with this, too. Yer practically tremblin.’” 

Kallus winces _\--that’s not from the cold, Zeb!--_ and yet, he still feels his body relaxing quite naturally as the comforting embrace of his friend wraps around him. The Lasat’s strong heartbeat is steady against his spine, and his short, velvety fur tickles against his exposed skin. He basks in the warmth and softness of it all, relishing each puff of Zeb’s breath upon his shoulder. 

“Now, get some rest, Kal. I’ll look after the kid when he wakes.” 

Alexsandr Kallus means to argue back. He means to tell Zeb. that it’s his responsibility, not the Lasat’s, to tend to the Vornskr. He wants to say ‘thank you’ for taking care of the pup this afternoon, and he wants to express his gratitude to his friend for looking out for him tonight as well. But he doesn’t. He is far too warm, and too comfortable. 

Instead, he falls asleep in his friend’s arms. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sure, guys. That's not gay AT ALL.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Sister Sabine checks in with Kallus. The former Imp has some stuff to work through.

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

Kallus wakes feeling sated and comfortable. There is a pleasant heaviness to his body that pulls on every limb, drawing him down and into the warmth of the soft sheets. When he breathes, a familiar and delicious smell fills his nostrils. When his eyelashes flutter, he glimpses the bright stream of sunlight; and he realizes that, strangely enough, his body has not drawn him with its usual, military precision out of bed for an early-morning run. 

He also realizes that this bed is not _his._

The comforting heat of the bed suddenly feels suffocatingly _hot._ Kallus bolts upright, looking around wildly to find himself alone in the top bunk-- _Garazeb Orrelios’_ bunk--of their empty room. At some point throughout the night, it seems as though he had removed his tank, as his chest is now bare except for the curling of golden-red hair. He clutches the blanket against his chest, eyes scanning for the discarded item of clothing (or for the troublesome Vornskyr who started it all). To his despair, he finds neither. 

There is a soft knock on the door, and Kallus tugs the blanket up a bit higher. 

“Kallus?” Zeb’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “Ya awake in there? I’m comin’ in with Rowdy, if yer decent.” 

The former imperial blushes. He closes his eyes, wondering how and what the circumstances had been when his friend had left the room. _Was I still wearing my top? Was I curled up against him? Did he see me--_ he shivers-- _did he feel me sleeping against him this morning?_ Staring at his bare skin with building embarrassment, Kallus finds his voice. 

“Uh, yeah! I’m up. C’mon in.” 

There is a satisfied sound from the other side of the door, and his roommate / best friend / long-time crush walks in. The tall Lasat is already prepared for the day, his facial hair well-groomed and fresh jumpsuit shining. He looks a bit out of breath--as though he has been running--and a black, smooth-skinned puppy bounces around his legs. He smiles at Kallus when he sees him staring. 

“Well, looks like ya finally got caught up on yer beauty sleep!” Zeb laughs, closing the door behind him. “An’ good thing, too. Ya were practically dead on yer feet yesterday, and I couldn’t really raise a kid with a _zombie_.” 

Kallus chuckles, blushing again. _Raising a kid. With Zeb._ It had seemed somewhat intimate to him before, but now he feels _acutely_ aware of how domestic this all seems with him sitting bleary-eyed and fuzzy-haired in the other man’s bed after they’d shared sleep. 

Twisting the sheets in between his fingers, Kallus replies awkwardly, “Ah, thank you for providing me with that opportunity. I can say that I’m feeling _much_ better now, after sleeping through the night.” 

Zeb snorts. He reaches down to release the clasp holding back Rowdy’s harness. 

“Through the night? Kallus, it’s been a whole _cycle_. You konked out in my bed late on Sunday evenin, and you’ve been sleepin’ like an angel until right now. Tuesday mornin.” 

Kallus feels his eyes growing wide. 

“It’s _Tuesday?”_ he exclaims, moving to get up. “You’re telling me that I slept for _over 24 hours_ ?!” Scrabbling to find his chrono, he groans as the date and time is confirmed. “Garazeb! How could you let me _do_ that?!” _I missed work?! I missed work! I haven’t been taking care of Rowdy, and I’ve probably been sitting in bed like a FOOL--_

Zeb laughs easily. He crouches to sit on the floor (which is now _clean,_ by the way) and scratches the Vornskr affectionately behind his leathery ears. 

“How could I leave ya? I was damn _proud!”_ Zeb crows. He moves to scratch beneath the pup’s chin. “You’ve been known to go multiple _months_ without taking so much as a coffee break. The whole base knows how devoted ya are to yer work. So when I found out that there was some magical secret about my bed, I sure as kark wasn’t gonna mess that one up!” He looks up at Kallus and grins. 

Kallus rubs the back of his neck, unsure what to say. 

“I’ve been told before that I’m quite good in bed,” Zeb continues with a low chuckle, “but I didn’t realize that it was the _sheets_ that made it all worthwhile.” 

Mortified, Kallus buries his face in his hands. He’s not sure whether Zeb’s casual confidence about his sex life--or his transparent habits of self-neglect--are rattling him more. Either way, he feels _very_ exposed and embarrassed. Breathing in through the cracks of his hands, Alexsandr Kallus searches for words. _Where is that silver-tongued ISB agent now?!_

“Ah, yes, you are--that is, your bed is--quite comfortable, Garazeb. I, um, _yes_. You’re. Uh. My _very_ good friend, and I’m, well, I’m _grateful_ that you allowed it. That is, allowed me. Um, congratulations, I suppose.” 

He decides to shut up now. 

Kallus hears a huffing noise, and he peeks through his fingertips. For some reason, Zeb looks a bit put-out as he rubs one large, clawed hand over Rowdy’s soft belly. The pup has rolled over, the pup lying on its back without apology as it begs for touch. 

“S’no problem, Kal,” Zeb replies, his voice sounding careful. “Yer more than welcome.” 

There is a long, awkward silence as the Lasat tickles the pup’s chubby belly. Rowdy rolls over, play-whining, and the big man chuckles and flips him back over again. Maybe it is Kallus’ imagination, but the creature seems...bigger somehow. _How could he possibly be growing that fast?_ It has only been a week’s worth of time since they had rescued the Vornskr, but Kallus already finds himself unable to picture his life without the pup. _He’s so important to me, and he’s become so central to who I am and what I do with my day. When did he become such a permanent fixture in my daily life?_ He wonders. 

When Zeb looks up to see Kallus looking, he wonders briefly if he is still thinking about the Vornskr, or if he is actually thinking about his best friend. 

“Zeb,” Kallus begins, dropping his gaze. “Zeb, ah...what I’m _trying_ to say to you, is…that...”

He is unsure what to say. He doesn’t want to do this wrong; he doesn’t know if it’s even _right._ Kallus thinks of his conversations with Kanan; he thinks of Hera and all of her teasing; he thinks of Garazeb, wrapping his arm around him, tugging him close against his chest last night. 

There is a soft noise.

Kallus looks up from his fiddling with the blankets to find that the other man is _staring_ at him. 

It’s not the same kind of attention that he’d focused on Kallus earlier. _This_ time, there is something more intentional about his gaze; something more purposeful. _Hungry._ As Kallus becomes aware of this, he realizes with a jolt of surprise that he’s dropped the blanket covering his chest. Zeb’s gaze is lingering upon his bare skin. 

“... _Zeb_?” 

It is equally delightful and _terrifying._ Every one of Kallus’ nerves _screams_ to attention as he becomes aware of the desire flaring within his friend’s eyes. He holds still as the green, luminous gaze trails over his exposed chest, taking in the golden-red hairs scattered among his freckles. He feels his heart thundering from beneath his fragile, pale skin as Zeb’s dark, cat-like irises drag over each detail. He practically _feels_ the Lasat as he traces the curves of his piqued nipples and standing veins, tracks the tense motion of skin over throat. 

When Zeb’s gaze comes to rest on the place where blankets are pooled over his lap, he prays that his arousal is not visible as everything else. 

“... _Zeb..._ I... _we…_ ” 

Rowdy barks, the noise sudden and loud. 

And just like that, the moment is over: Kallus is left staring and panting at the open space, and Zeb has turned his attention towards the young Vornskr. 

Wrestling his bo-rifle away from the pup, the Lasat growls, “ _that’s not fer you!”_ and holds his snout back with a four-toed, heavy paw. Kallus is left sharking and staring, panting into open space, wondering what exactly just happened. 

_Too close!_ His brain screams, bidding his body to push the tension away. _That was too close for comfort!! What if I...what if Zeb...did he...am I?..._

He is jarred out of his thoughts as Rowdy barks sharply again. 

“Quiet, ya flea-bitten mutt!” Zeb growls at the Vornskr, shoving him away. “Ya can’t have that! It’s not fer you!” 

Kallus feels his heart sinking into his stomach, as if each of the words had been crafted for him instead of the pup. _Right. Not with Zeb. Not for me._ Shaking the yearning thoughts from his head, drags himself towards the rungs of the ladder. 

“I suppose I’d better get ready for work,” he says casually, adjusting his boxer-briefs before descending the ladder. “Were you planning to use the ‘fresher?” 

“Go fer it,” Zeb grunts. He is holding Rowdy down with his foot, glaring at the pup. “I’ve gonna have a few words with our son.” 

Even with his sinking stomach and broken heart, Kallus allows himself a fleeting smile. _Our son._ Keeping his body angled away from the Lasat, he pushes his way out of the room and towards the empty refresher. _At least I can dream._

\-----

Sabine snaps her fingers in front of Kallus’ face. 

“Earth to ex-Imperial,” she says. He turns to look at the young Mandolorian woman, and a playful smirk dances across her thin lips. “I thought Zebby said that you got some _sleep?”_

Kallus groans. He re-focuses on the vibro-netting that they’ve been assigned to repair. 

“Zeb mentioned that?” he asked, pulling a finger out of the knot Sabine is cinching. 

The woman grins. 

“Yeah. He _also_ said that you’re kinda _cuddly_ when you’re asleep.” 

Alexsandr Kallus feels himself go through several shades of red before the blood drains from his face in embarrassment. 

“He said _what?!”_

Sabine’s smile widens at the flustered look on his face. She goes back to tying knots in the vibro-netting, her careful artist’s hands working with a quick dexterity. 

“Oh, c’mon, _Kal,”_ she says, nudging him with an elbow and using Zeb’s given pet-name. “If you two have _finally_ moved on to sharing a bed, you can’t hardly pretend that there’s nothing going on!” 

Kallus mutters and clenches his teeth. He keeps his eyes _firmly_ fixed on the netting, and wills himself not to rise to the bait. 

“Why do you have to be so stubborn about this?!” the young woman exclaims. Kallus looks over at her as she throws up her hands in disgust. “You’ve been making Rodian-eyes at each other for _months._ I need to know if you’re _actually_ going to hook up with my brother. Otherwise--” she looks at him with a furrowed brow--”I’d have to assume that you’ve just been _toying_ with him. Which is _not_ going to go over well.” 

She brings one hand sharply down upon the vibro-net. It crackles to life around her curled hand.

 _Fixed, I guess._ Kallus gulps. 

“Um, look,” he pleads, feeling sweat build upon his brow. At one time, he could’ve taken on a whole group of Mandolorians, even in their elite status; but that was _ISB Agent 029._ And he’d left Kallus long ago--if not on that ice moon where he’d first met Zeb. _I don’t want to fight her,_ he thinks, warily eyeing the purple-and-silver haired woman. _But I don’t want to lie to her, either._

“I think that there must be some kind of misunderstanding. I...Zeb... _we…”_ he raises a forearm, wiping his brow. “Zeb doesn’t _want_ me. No matter _how_ much I f-feel _otherwise_.” 

As the words leave his lips, he feels that familiar sinking in his heart. _Pathetic, Kallus._ He doesn’t want the other members of the _Ghost_ to pity him; in fact, he’s worked very hard to build a rapport with Sabine, who took longer than the others to warm up to him. Putting himself and his feelings out there doesn’t feel good, and he doesn’t want to be laughed at by the others. _I just got this family,_ he thinks, _and I don’t want to lose it._

Looking up at the other woman, he hopes that all this is conveyed in his eyes. It seems to be, because her face softens, and her hazel-brown eyes look sad. 

“Oh, _Kallus_ ,” she says, mouth turning downward “You really _believe_ that shit, huh?” 

He raises his brow in surprise. Rather than glaring at him like before, Sabine Wren sighs heavily and she pushes the netting aside. The young woman is gazing at him with such sympathy and compassion that Kallus feels a bit uncomfortable. Blushing again, he stares down at his boots, thinking of all the ways that he’s made mistakes. 

“Believe what?” 

“You really believe that Zeb doesn’t want you,” she says, frowning slightly. “You _really_ think that this whole thing is one-sided, and that he couldn’t _possibly_ return the affection that you have for him.” 

The outline of Kallus’ boots has grown blurry. He realizes with surprise that he is blinking back tears. 

“Uh,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not _as such_ , but...” 

Sabine’s hand rests upon his shoulder. He turns to look at the other Spectre, willing himself not to cry like a little baby. _When did I become like this with my feelings? Am I really so transparent that I can now be read like a book?_ It’s not the worst thing; the young woman’s hand feels warm and steady upon his shoulder. But it’s not a _welcome_ thing. He’s used to handling all of this on his own. 

“But I’m right,” Sabine murmurs. She gives his shoulder a little squeeze, and Kallus finds himself wiping at his face. “Aww, Alexandr Kallus. I’m sorry for what the Empire has done to you.” 

He sniffs, looking up at her in confusion. 

“How could it be that a man like you--smart, handsome and kind; _good_ enough to catch my brother’s attention and heart--cannot even _see_ his own worth? That you can’t even tell when somebody else is _madly_ in love with you, when you’re so in love with _him_?”

Kallus gapes. He isn’t sure what part of this he ought to tackle and dismantle first. However, as he gropes about for his objections, he finds himself unable to argue with the Mandolorian woman. _The Jedi did say that I hadn’t allowed Zeb to do his part. Hera did suggest that Zeb was my boyfriend._ Head spinning with all of the possibilities, Kallus allows his mind to accept the idea that Garazeb Orrelios _could_ return his feelings, and that he might actually care about him in the same way that he cares for the other man. Opening and closing his mouth, he isn’t sure what to say. 

Sabine Wren gives Kallus a tiny smile. Patting his shoulder once more, she returns her hands to a folded position within her lap. He stares at them, wondering what it would be like to have this kind of conversation with his best friend--to be _this_ open, and to make room for the _possibility_ that he might be wanted. 

Maybe, Zeb would look at him again. In that deep, searching way that he had before Rowdy had interrupted them. 

“What’s your schedule for next shift?” Sabine asks casually. Kallus tilts his head to the side, and she shrugs her shoulders. “If it’s nothing too boring, I’ll cover it. You should go talk to Zeb.” 

Once again, Kallus feels his eyes swimming with tears. He doesn’t know what he ever did to deserve this; he doesn’t know what changed, so that he now is being supported, directed, and guided by others looking out for his well-being. It’s just so _different_ than before. And, maybe, it can get even _better._

“That’s a good idea,” Kallus breathes, smiling back at the young Mandelorian woman. “Thank you so much, Ms. Wren.” 

Sabine snorts.

“Save that for _Ursa_ ,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Anyways: you’re welcome, Kal.” She grins at him as he stands up, brushing the remaining threads off his pants. “Good luck with my brother.” 

Kallus chuckles, blushing only a little as she salutes him. 

“But don’t break his heart. Or I’ll kill you,” she adds cheerfully. 

“Noted.” 

As Kallus walks away from the repair post, Sabine Wren whistling cheerfully behind him, he feels lighter than air and twice as cheerful. 

Unfortunately, it doesn't last long. 

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! OH NO, WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN *eyes emoji*


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowdy is missing. The Ghost crew makes a plan.

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

When he arrives at the hangar, Alexsandr Kallus knows that something is wrong. First, there is a conspicuous absence of swaggering, cutoff-shirt wearing Lasat catching his eye; second, there appears to be a small crowd of workers gathered together, talking. In the way that their heads turn to look at him upon entry, he would guess that they’d even been waiting for him. 

“Where’s Zeb?” he asks through a panting breath. _You’d think that all of those early-morning runs would prepare me for a sprint across base!_ Kallus places both hands behind his head, expanding his chest to draw in more breath. “That is, I mean to say: good afternoon. Have any of you seen Captain Zeb Orrelios recently?” 

One of the crew--a tall, muscle-bound Trandoshan woman with brilliant-orange scales--turns to smile at him. When she blinks, her eyelids shift across her slit irises sideways. 

“Kallussss, right?” she asks, sounding almost amused. “Yesssss. Your husssband wasss here. But he just left from his shift rather quickly. Sssssomething about...hisss _dog_ going misssssing?” 

The former Imperial feels himself stiffen in place. Two thoughts battle for his conscious mind: one, the thought of a lost, weak and worried Rowdy, missing somewhere amongst the tall trees and dangerous mushrooms; the second, an image of himself and Zeb, standing brilliant and uniformed, gazing into one another’s misty eyes. _Husband. I--_

“Missing?” Kallus asks, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. “Did he say what happened? Did he say where he thought he went.” 

The woman shakes her head apologetically. 

“He didn’t ssssay much more. But he _did_ tell us that you’d likely be ssssstopping by...and that you should meet him at the _Ghosssst._ ” Her forked tongue flickers out from between her sharp teeth. “And sssson as possssible.” 

Kallus nods. He tries to ignore the way that all the lifting-crew members are looking at him, curious _(and even suggestive)_ looks on their faces. _Don’t bother. This isn’t the time for it._ _Just let them think what they like._

“Thank you,” he says. “I greatly appreciate it.” Turning swiftly upon his heel, he leaves the hangar and makes for the landing area. The _Ghost_ would still be parked where Hera had left it last time they’d landed, and he would be able to discuss a plan with Zeb. 

But...a plan for... _what_ , exactly? A plan to track down a wild, venomous space creature that _clearly_ neither one of them knows much about? To wrangle a beast that so _evidently_ wants nothing to do with them? 

As he crosses an open courtyard of rebellion parents playing with children, a sudden, sickening feeling descends to his stomach. _What if Zeb blames me for Rowdy’s being missing?!_ The idea is like a lump of cold duracrete dropped into his gut. _What if he thinks that this is my fault, and then, he becomes so angry with me, that he wants nothing more to do with me at all?!_ Sweating with effort and dread, Kallus watches a child leap into the waiting arms of their guardian. _What if all the Spectres end up feeling that way?_

Summoned by his anxiety, the image of Sabine Wren’s thoughtful face blooms within his mind. Heaving with breath as he runs, Kallus imagines Zeb’s Mandelorian sister scowling at him at these thoughts while they sit together fixing their vibro-nets. _“Kallus. What did the Empire do to a good many like you? You’re a good man. Have you ever considered that your feelings might just be reciprocated?”_

Although it is only an illusion within his mind, the soothing words make him feel grateful. 

It does not take long for him to cross the expanse of the main camp. Rebels are bustling about on their way home from various shifts, whether it was at the information center or General mechanics. He doesn’t pause to have conversations with several people who nod and wave, and he doesn’t give an excuse to General Draven as he runs by without so much as a salute. Before he knows it, Kallus is sprinting on to the landing field among the various ships. He spies the _Ghost_ awaiting departure, and a large, purple figure leaning out the side door.

“Kal!” Zeb exclaims, waving at him. “Ya got my message!” 

Alexandr Kallus takes the last, few strides across the flattened grass and hoists himself up the ladder to the side door. His friend reaches down for his hand, and with little effort, pulls him up the rest of the way into the ship. 

The door hisses shut behind them. 

“I did,” he agrees. Even though he is still winded and panting--even though Zeb’s eyes are so clearly fogged with worry--he finds himself returning his friend’s grateful smile. “Your crew took care of it. Although, I think they might be under the impression that we are something… _more_ than good roommates.” 

The Lasat chuffs good-naturedly. He wraps one arm around Kallus, steering him towards the central gathering area. 

“Wouldn’ be the first,” he concedes. “Well, c’mon, then. I already got the others here.” 

Kallus frowns, peering up at his friend in confusion. _The others? What is he talking about?_ When he rounds the corner, he arrives to see the full crew of Spectres-- plus Rex, minus Ezra-- around the galley table. He blinks. _Oh. My other friends._ The novelty of being gathered into a crew is just so new to him. He’s still getting used to it. 

“Sorry to hear about your pup, Kallus,” Kanan Jarrus greets him. His long fingertips are wrapped around a mug of steaming ( _predictably)_ tea, and his elbows rest upon the surface of the table. “Zeb called us here to help as soon as we could.” 

Feeling both deeply embarrassed and thankful, Kallus takes a seat in the chair that Rex has drawn out for him. 

“Surely, this is not the most important of Rebellion business?” he asks carefully, adding in a chuckle so as not to offend them. “I mean, do not misunderstand me: I am grateful that you all are here. But one should hardly expect that _General Syndulla_ should be among the party who helps out in tracking down a lost pet?” 

Hera looks up from where she is working a data-pad. Her eyes are all kind greetings and softness, but her mouth is set in a thin, determined line. 

“Well, you’re family, Kallus. We don’t take that kind of thing lightly.” The Twi’lek woman raises the data-pad she is holding. “But yes, you’re more right than you think.” Beneath her green finger, a pair of familiar, brilliantly cobalt-blue eyes sparkles back at them. “As it turns out, Rowdy is, unfortunately, not the _only_ one missing. Spectre Six also failed to check in after his break at lunchtime.”

This was news to Kallus. He looks over at Sabine, whom he had shared his lunch and early afternoon with while repairing vibro-nets. She looks just as surprised as he does. 

“Now, this wouldn’t be so unusual,” Her continues, “but nobody’s seen hide nor hair of the kid since he left. And _usually_ ,” she squints in an accusatory way at Zeb, “ _somebody_ tells me when he’s off playing hooky, just in case of emergency.” 

Zeb shrugs a fuzzy in a noncommittal shrug. “Hey, everybody’s gotta take a break sometime!” 

“Not everybody is a _Jedi_ ,” Hera replies swiftly. “And we can’t afford for our Force-users to just go missing from time to time.” 

Kanan coughs softly, interrupting what is building into an argument. His partner catches on, returning her focus to the mission at hand. 

“Regardless, the timing matches up too perfectly for this to be a coincidence. Rowdy was reported missing early this afternoon, and Ezra Bridger was reported just shortly after. I thought it best to inform Mon Mothma that something on base might be happening, and to dispatch a search party as soon as possible.” 

Kallus feels his shoulders sag with relief. Yes, it might be a little excessive--but he is _glad_ for Hera’s swift action. There is truly _no_ comparison between the way that the Rebels look after the well-being of one another to the dismissive, _disposable_ way that the Empire treats their minions. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“You’re welcome,” Hera replies. “And now that you’re here, we can get started.” She turns to look at Kanan, who smiles from behind his steaming mug. “Spectre One, the usual: you’ll be staying here with me on the _Ghost_ to do a thorough investigation from the skies.” 

Kanan nods, sightless eyes crinkling with affection. An angry, binary beeping from beneath the table interrupts them. 

“Yes, _and_ Chopper, of _course_ ,” she sighs. She gestures at Kallus and Zeb. “Now, you two will lead half of the ground crew. You’ll start out on speeders, then make it by foot through the narrower parts of the forest.” She turns to the armor-clad warriors. “Rex and Sabine? I’m sending you on speeders as well. Take the West side. Kalluzeb will be on the East.” 

Despite the serious moment, Kallus hears himself snort. He opens his mouth to ask about the strange conglomerate of their names, but seeing that none of the others even appearing the slightest bit surprised, he decides not to mention it. 

“And don’t forget to keep your comm-links open,” Rex admonishes. “If you see either one of the kids, relay back to the _Ghost._ Hera and Kanan will take it from there.” He taps two fingers near the ear of his helmet. 

Following Kanan’s lead, Kallus rises from the table. He makes a brief honor-bow to Hera as they are dismissed, and follows Zeb down the _Ghost’s_ plank. Somehow, he is already feeling better: the familiar routines and order of military emergency are soothing to his pounding head and racing heart. 

As if hearing his thoughts, Zeb’s hand comes to rest heavily upon his shoulder. 

“Let’s get goin, yeah?”

“Yes. The sooner we’re all back together, the better.”

Somewhere, in the distance of the forest, thunder rumbles. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, looks like a storm is coming! I hope Lasats don't mind getting wet...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids are found safe and sound. Soft, family things.

* * *

**SEVEN**

* * *

After an evening of driving wind, soaking rain, and cramped, stiff joints from sitting hunched over speeders, the missing pups are finally located. 

_Together_. 

And Kallus and Zeb had been the ones to find them. 

Huddled beneath an outcropping of rock, sleeping as soundly as at home in their beds, Ezra Bridger and Rowdy the Vornskr had nestled together to get some rest while waiting for the storm clouds to break. Besides being thoroughly covered in mud, the _Ghost’s_ youngest kids are wholly unharmed--and would have _stayed_ that way, if the human Force-user had refrained from taunting his older brother (“Hey, guys! Nice weather we’re having for camping, huh?”). Kallus had managed to convince Zeb that Kanan would want his padawan back _alive,_ and so the crew had began their walk through the tall, narrow trees back towards the speeders. 

As they walk, Ezra is eager to tell them his tale. 

“So I heard those grating, horrible sounds from inside of your room, and I thought, _kriff,_ that can’t be good, right?” 

_“Language,_ ” Garazeb grunts at his younger brother. 

“Karabast!” Ezra exclaims, grinning sideways at Zeb in disobedience. “ _Anyways_ , I know that Rowdy here is a regular destructor-droid, so I just _had_ to break into your room to make sure that everything was still going fine. And good thing I did, because that kennel of yours was shredded to _pieces_!” He gestures widely with his hands, making sounds of crushing metal and explosions with his mouth. Rowdy, walking alongside the teenager, wags his tail in enthusiastic agreement.

“You broke into our _room_ ,” Zeb repeats in a low growl, “and then you broke our _stuff_?” 

_“Rowdy_ broke it,” Ezra corrects. “But that doesn’t matter. What happened next was the coolest part!” 

From where he is splashing through puddles beside the young Jedi, the Vornskr puppy looks up with interest. He cocks his head to the side at the excitement in Ezra’s voice, and the teen scratches him affectionately behind the ears. 

“What happened next?” Kallus askes He can’t _help_ but be curious: like the boy’s mentor, Hondo Onaka, he’s learned how to tell a _very_ good story. “Did he do some kind of strange Force-magic?” 

Ezra grins through the rain at Kallus. 

“Not bad, _Agent_ Kallus. Yeah, it’s like Zeb told us before: Rowdy is a Force-hunter. So while I didn’t know it’s what he was tracking till we reached the cave, it seems like our little Vornskr had his nose on the scent of a Saber-Toothed Nightcat!” 

Despite the water pouring into his boots, Kallus stops dead in his tracks. 

“He did _what?!”_

Garazeb’s head whips around. He growls in agreement.

“ _E_ _zra!_ Don’t tell me that just the _pair_ of ya were messin’ around with a ‘bastin’ _Nightcat!”_

The teenager does not look abashed in the slightest. 

“Oh, relax, Zeb. It’s _fine._ As you can see, it clearly all turned out okay."

Kallus raises his eyebrows. Like their pale-pelted cousins, Saber-Toothed Nightcats are stealthy, _powerful,_ Force-wielding predators. Using their connection to the Force to meld their camouflage coats with the environment, these stealthy jungle-cats are nearly invisible to the sentient eye. It’s not surprising that Kallus has not seen one for himself since he’d arrived at Yavin 4--but he can imagine it looks much like their snow-pelted kin that he’d encountered on Hot. And that had _not_ been the _safest_ mission. 

“What happened?” he asks eagerly. “Didn’t it try and attack you? Did Rowdy help you escape?” 

Ezra beams. Clearly, he is delighting in this rapt attention from Kallus. 

“Oh, she wanted _nothing_ to do with us. You should have seen the look on her face when Rowdy burst into her den. So insulted!” he shakes a scolding finger down at the puppy. “Wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep--Nightcats, they’re nocturnal, right?--and to look after her babies.” 

Zeb’s ears twitch. Like Kallus, he was alarmed by the idea of Ezra and Rowdy encountering a Nightcat. However, given the way that the purple tips swivel back in anger, it seems that Night _kittens_ might have been even _worse._

“Yer tellin’ me,” Zeb says, voice dangerously low, “that the ‘bastin’ pair of ya went botherin’ a mother animal in her own home? Do you have _any idea_ how _dangerous_ that idea is?!” By the time he has finished his sentence, his voice has risen to a booming thunder. “Ezra, ya could have got yourselves _killed!”_

For the first time, the human flinches. His shoulders slump beneath the weight of Zeb’s gaze.

“It’s not like it was _my_ idea,” Ezra mutters, rubbing one arm. “I was just chasing Rowdy after he escaped...and...it got out of hand.” He sighs heavily. “I’m sorry, Zeb. You’re right. It was dangerous, and I’m sorry that we were reckless. I should have just...called right for help.” 

Zeb glowers at the human for a moment longer. Then, he reaches out with one welcoming arm. 

“C’mere, kid,” he says. 

Ezra takes a tentative step forward. The Lasat gathers him into his arms. 

“Listen to me,” he says, hugging Ezra to his chest. “Yer my little brother. There’s _nowhere in the galaxy_ that ya could go where I wouldn’t come an’ find ya.” The young Jedi sniffs, and Zeb ruffles a four-fingered hand through his soaking, indigo hair. “Even when ya make the stupidest choices. Even when ya forget that ya don’t have to do this alone.” 

Ezra hugs the Lasat back, bowing his head in gratitude as he is forgiven. As Kallus watches, he feels his heart bursting with fondness and warmth within his chest. _This is a family,_ he thinks, staring at them. _This is what family says, and what family does. This is what it looks like._

Zeb looks up from where he is holding Ezra. His eyes make contact with Kallus, and there is a softness within them that make his knees go weak. 

_And it could also be mine, too,_ he realizes. _My family._

Thinking of what the other members of the _Ghost_ crew had said--and thinking of the way that Garrazeb Orrelios had gathered him into his warm chest, sharing his blankets and bed--Kallus allows the possibility to work its way into his heart. 

_My family._

_I’d like that._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short. Life has been very difficult for me to manage recently.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus "warms up" to the idea of being together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no smut this time. Just fluff and family feels.

* * *

EIGHT

* * *

By the time that they arrive back at the barracks, Alexandra Kallus is freezing. 

In their haste to depart on the search for Ezra and Rowdy, he’d left with no more than his form-fitting t-shirt and pair of light trousers. Their sodden, windy ride back on the speeders had plastered the thin garments to his chilled skin. With each inhale, his body trembles for warmth. 

_Warmth_ from the heat of his best friend, who is standing so very near and so radiant. _Warmth_ from the meaningful look in his eyes, gaze lingering long and heavy each time their eyes meet.

The moment the door of their room opens, Rowdy bounds towards the human’s bed. The leather-black Vornskr leaps onto the plush, springy surface, and, with a satisfied huff, circles into a tight, sleepy crescent. Kallus smiles; it had, after all, been a very exciting day for their pup. Escaping from his room, running through the forest, _fighting a Nightcat--_ it was all a bit much, even for someone within the Rebellion. If he was not more irritated (and _exhausted_ ) by the adventure, Kallus’ heart would’ve melted right there from the adorable sight. 

As he is standing there admiring the sleeping pup, Kallus feels a warm puff of breath on his shoulder. The sensation is so different from his cold, dripping clothes that it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He turns around and comes face-to-face with Garazeb Orrelios, who is standing _very_ close and looking down upon him. 

“Let’s get you out of those clothes, Kal.” Zeb’s voice is low and soft. “I don’t want ya to catch a cold.” 

The intensity of the other man’s gaze makes Kallus shiver all over again. Hesitantly, he reaches down to grasp at the bottom lip his wet shirt. Slowly, he begins peeling off the material from where it clings to his skin. 

Is this something? He wonders. _Is this what friends do: take care of each other? Or are we crossing over into something new, something else?_ As he tugs the collar of his shirt around the point of his bearded jawline, Kallus thinks of how Zeb had stared at his naked chest earlier that morning. _Are we just two friends who watch out for one another? Or is this, right here, right now, shifting into something more?_

Kallus is acutely aware of how closely he is being watched as he drops the discarded shirt with a wet flop. It’s not that he doesn’t _want_ this kind of attention from Zeb: in fact, he’d been pining for it for _ages._ The idea of his best friend, Garazeb Orrelios, looking at him with eyes full of _wanting--_ a wanting that the Lasat returned, freely and mutually given--sends an electric current through Alexsandr Kallus’ body. 

_“Have you ever considered,”_ Sabine’s voice echoes inside of his head, _“that you might not be the only one who feels this way?”_

Carefully, he lifts his gaze from the floor. His stomach _lurches_ inside of his belly. 

Garazeb Orrelios is _starting_ at Kallus. His heavy eyelids are hanging low over his emerald-green eyes, and his catlike pupils have dilated into wide, new-moon globes. When Kallus swallows, he sees those eyes track the movement of the skin over his throat--and he _swears_ that he sees the hint of one, glimmering fang peeking from out of his lower lip. 

“The rest of it,” Zeb murmurs softly. His voice is hushed, as though he is trying not to spook a cornered, wild animal.“Better to take off the rest of it, too.” 

Nodding quietly, Kallus obeys. 

He knows that they are toeing the line between friendship and Something Else as he brings his shaking, stiff hands to the chilled buckle that holds up his trousers. _Is this happening?_ He wonders, fumbling with the zip. _Or are we...am I...is this just getting ready for bed again? Another, regular night between roommates?_ As he shuffles out of his sopping-wet pants, Kallus wonders if Zeb will keep looking at him as more and more of his intimate skin is revealed. The idea of his friend looking at his bared body makes his pulse thunder within his ears. _I want him to. I want him to see._

Shy even now, Kallus steps out of his trousers. They flop uselessly to the floor. 

“ _Bed?”_ Garazeb breathes. His voice is so soft and low, that if Kallus hadn’t been holding his own, he wouldn’t have even heard the Lasat’s invitation. “Let’s get ya into bed...you must be freezin.” 

In silent agreement, Kallus follows Zeb across the room towards his bunk.

Before ascending the ladder, Lasat pauses to divest himself of his jumpsuit. Following the other man’s lead, Kallus does not turn away: instead, he stays and watches with raptured attention as the soaking jumpsuit is peeled back to reveal plastered layers of velvety fur upon rippling muscle. Garrazeb Orrelios is already an incredibly well-built and powerful man, but the smoothness of his matted-down fur over his muscles reveals every _inch_ of his powerful physique. 

And, unlike Kallus, it seems that he does not wear undergarments.

 _“Karabast,”_ Zeb says softly, giving his sodden jumpsuit a shake. It’s caught around one of his ankles, and he’s bending over to tug at it the offending object. Kallus takes in the sight of his curving spine, his compact and powerful thighs, and it chases away the last of the breath in his lungs. _Beautiful._

The sound of his exhale catches Zeb’s attention. He looks up, catching Kallus staring. “Is it alright? Do ya mind?” 

Admiring Zeb’s powerful form, Kallus shakes his head. _Not even in the slightest._

Freed from his clothing, the Lasat turns and climbs up the waiting rungs of the ladder. When he hoists himself up into his bunk without looking back, it is clear that he expects Kallus to follow. So he does, quietly walking across the room, setting his hands upon the metal rungs--still holding heat from where the Lasat’s palms had touched them--placing them one over the other, until he too is kneeling upon the mattress. 

“Good thing the kid is a good sleeper,” Zeb chuckles.

The Lasat is lying comfortably upon his belly, just as the night before. Perhaps this is a mercy: Kallus does not know if he could have made himself look away, had the Lasat been lying upon his back. However, unlike the night before, this time the other man is wearing nothing--and the breathtaking, majestic pattern of his dark-purple stripes is on full display. They have almost a hypnotic effect, pulling Kallus downward towards until they are lying next to one another. 

“All right?” he asks Kallus again softly. Zeb’s eyes hold that same, gentle intensity that he’d looked at him with before. 

“Yes,” Kallus whispers. He finds that, although he is trembling slightly, he means it. Kallus mirrors Zeb’s posture, pillowing his hands beneath his chin and stretching out upon his belly. He turns his head to face his friend, and for a long moment, they simply lie there like that, eyes lingering upon one another. 

_Wondering._

“Blankets?” Zeb aks. 

His delicious, earthy musk is slightly more strong that even before, given their time this evening in the rain. Kallus savors each inhale of breath, feeling his eyes grow hazy with comfort. 

“ _Please.”_

Upon Zeb’s invitation, Kallus shuffles closer to Zeb’s open chest. The Lasat reaches out with his feet, grasping a pawful of blankets that gather upon the base of the bed. He draws them halfway up their bodies, then pauses, as if waiting for Kallus to say something. Acting on instinct, Kallus edges closer. He allows the smooth planes of his back to settle upon the rippling, furred muscles of Garazeb’s chest, until the remaining inches between them are closed. 

“ _Yeah,”_ Zeb agrees. “ _That’s_ it.” 

He tucks the blankets around the front of Kallus’ chin, then scoops him close into the hollowed curve of his hips. 

“Yer my--what do they call it?--my _little spoon,”_ Zeb sighs contentedly, rubbing his bearded chin upon the back of Kallus’ neck. 

The human snorts with indignation. “What are you talking about? I’m the _knife!”_ he protests. 

The sound of Zeb’s rumbling laughter sets off a series of jumping, _delightful_ sensations all across his bare skin, the purring vibrations warming him to the core. Kallus closes his eyes, marvelling at the heat radiating out from the Lasat’s powerful muscles. Their embrace drives away any hint of the lasting, bone-deep chill from the storm. Gradually, the heart thundering within his chest slows into a quiet, steady synchronization with the man breathing behind him. Kallus settles into the feeling of Zeb’s chest rising and falling, breath warm and puffing, and the gentle, comforting press of their hips. 

And, of course, the soft, snorting growl of the Vornskr below. 

Against the softness of Zeb’s pillow, Kallus finds himself smiling. Even though he is still frustrated with Rowdy, he can only be grateful for the waves of relief, comfort and pleasure as he rests against his best friend Garazeb. Neither Rowdy nor Ezra had even been hurt--and the little adventure today had, _ultimately_ , brought their family together. 

_Family._

The truth of it allows Kallus a deeply-contented sigh. Zeb, Rowdy, and Ezra; Kanan, Hera, and Sabine; even _Chopper,_ that murderous astro droid; they are _all_ people who compose the circle of what makes his family. He’d seen the truthfulness of it for himself today--as they’d each gone out of their way to find and bring back Rowdy and Ezra; had gone out of their way to bring himself and Zeb together _._

The Spectres, it seems, have been right all along: Kallus is _not_ alone, providing one-sided, unrequited affection. He is, in fact, surrounded by family--which includes not only his dear Garazeb, but an entire _crew_ of people who love him. 

Feeling more grateful than he can ever remember, Alexsandr Kallus nuzzles into the embrace of his partner.

From behind him, Zeb murmurs sleepily into his skin.  “What’s makin’ ya smile like that, Kal?” 

The former Imperial sighs. It does not surprise him that Zeb hadn’t even needed to look at his face to know the expression that is blooming there.  _ This is what it feels like to belong,  _ he thinks to himself. _ It feels heavenly. It feels like...home. _

“Oh...I was just thinking about...our little  _ family _ ,” Kallus whispers. “About how glad I am to be here, together.” He bites down on his lip. “About how I am grateful for the Rebellion...for Rowdy... For  _ you _ . You, and me.” 

The final release of his long-held confession feels to Kallus as brilliant as  _ starlight.  _ His heart flips and squeezes, and he feels a flush of pleasure sweep over his skin. It is as though e is falling through open air--knowing that someone he trusted was waiting to catch him.

And his partner must feel it, too: because the Lasat presses a hand against his hip, urging him to roll over and face him. 

Kallus does. The look of tenderness upon the other man’s face takes his breath away. 

“Alexsandr Kallus,” Zeb whispers, green eyes locked upon gold. “I love you. So  _ very  _ much.” 

His hands rest upon either one of Kallus’ hips, thumb stroking in gentle, concentric circles. Kallus thinks that he might cry from the combination of the lovely words and the gentle touch upon his tender skin. 

“...Say something?” Zeb asks, green eyes hopeful and bright. 

Kallus is startled. Could Zeb truly not  _ know _ his answer?  Is he  _ somehow _ expecting to be rejected, when his very  _ galaxy  _ rotates around the man who has offered him so much more than his warm heart and his bed? 

Below them, Rowdy gives a quiet, happy yip in his sleep. 

Kallus smiles.

“Garazeb Orrelios: I love you, too.” 

From beneath his fingertips, he feels a soft, tickling sensation. The volume of the sound increases, thrumming and spreading outward until it practically sounds like a revving speeder. After a curious moment,  Kallus realizes that Rebellion Captain Orrelios is  _ purring. _

He laughs aloud as the Lasat gathers him into his vibrating chest. Zebs ear’s twitch and throat rumbles as he presses a kiss to the top of Kallus’ sandy head, pulling the other man as closely against him as possible. More than willing, Kallus allows his body to rest heavily against Zeb, bringing their forms flush until they are aligned from toe to chin. 

“M’so glad we finally got here,” Zeb sighs, kissing into his hair again. 

_ “Yes,”  _ Kallus agrees. 

Tears are now falling softly from his long eyelashes, and he works his fingertips into the coarse, lovely fur of Zeb’s violet beard. The Lasat grunts fitfully as his eyelids slide closed, and Kallus follows his instinct by giving the threads a gentle tug. As he scratches his fingers deeper into the bristling fur, the Lasat groans, mouth falling open to reveal a singular fang. 

“You keep that up,” Zeb pants, “and we’re gonna end up somewhere  _ else  _ mighty quick!” 

Kallus grins.  _ Yes!  _ They had so much to explore together: so many new adventures to seek, so many new sensations to savor. This new, little family that they’ve begun is just the  _ start _ of their life together; and he cannot  _ wait  _ to join his partner in building something new and precious.

“Noted,” he smiles. “Then we’d better get some rest for tonight, Captain Orrelios. Because  tomorrow, I’m cashing in that favor Ezra Bridger owes us: by calling him in as our new babysitter.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading this strange little adoption fic! I don't know why this fic in particular was so HARD for me to finish, but I just got stuck so many times. Hopefully there's still something you enjoyed reading about it!! Even though it's not my best work, I'm happy for these boys, and I might return to this story later. (With a series of the Ghost crew + Rowdy searching for Ezra, post season 4??? Who knows!!) xoxoxo

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment and/or kudos if you have the time. <3


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